A Pinch Of Spice
by Lady of Kalam
Summary: Germany has received a letter from the Indian P.M. to create a personification for them. Germany and a few others head off on a spectacular adventure to find the Indian spirit and stuff it into a human body! Rated for Roma's mouth
1. Chapter 1

**Hey you guys**

**I think this story is going to be sooooo much cooler!**

**Key**

**italics - the awesome narrator voice only when i feel like it**

**England/Arthur Kirkland**

**France/Francis Bonnefoy**

**Germany/ Ludwig Beilschmidt**

**America/Alfred F. Jones**

**Rhodesia/ Kylie Greene (OC!) based on the bestie of besties**

**Ireland/ Marybeth O'Neil(OC!)based on one of my besties**

**Love ya guys**

* * *

****

"_Dear Mr. Germany,_

_Ever since meeting the countries last year, I have been wanting to have one for mine. I am aware that my predecessors have always been against this, a choice I do not understand, but I am interested in this business. Please inform me on where all other countries stand on this._

_Sincerely,_

_Prime Minister of India_."

Germany looked up from the letter he received yesterday from the Indian PM, at the other countries present.

_Everyone was silent for a change. Creating a new personification of a country was somewhat of a once in a while occurrence. A leader of a country would meet all the personifications of countries at a party held a week after they were elected, that were involved with theirs and would sometimes be interested in having one if they didn't already.(It was also the party when they would meet their own country's personification). The last one had been Sealand's some fifty odd years ago, at the pestering of their "prince"._

"So all in favor of creating a personification for the country of India raise your hand." Oh how Germany loved taking control.

Everyone but a scowling England put up their hand in agreement.

Ignoring England's glare, Germany nodded at the surrounding countries, "So then it is decided, the usual group, England, France, America, and I will visit India to find the Indian Spirit." and with a final tilt of Germany's head, the meeting was adjourned.

_What is meant by the Indian Spirit is the person who has the potential to be a country's personification. They have to be very stereotypical and strong enough to take the job. If you continue to read this story, you will understand how it works._

Germany was cleaning up the table when a loud cough alerted him to a grumpy looking England.

"I think it will be in everyone's best interest if I do not attend to this expedition."

Germany frowned, "England if it is about the Crown Jewels-"

England interrupted, going tomato red, "No! Of course not! I just don't feel up to it this time okay?" and with that he practically flounced off towards the door. Then he stopped and seem to be thinking about something. "I'll send a replacement to your place tomorrow, ten sharp okay?" then he was gone.

_Germany rolled his eyes. Ever since 1987, when he had gone to visit England and had gone to see the Crown Jewels, England had been touchy about the subject of India. All because of one pregnant Indian lady, who had come up to England, who was smirking at the German's look of awe, and had asked, "When are you British, going to return our jewels?" then she did pregnant-woman walk away._

the next day 9:45 am at Germany's house or more specifically in his dining room

"France?"

"Oui mon lapin?"

"Don't call me that you dummkopf. Who do you think England is going to send as his replacement?"busy Mr. Germany had to know.

"Angelterre is not coming?" he shrugged,"He is probably going to send two people not one. It is the strange ways of Eengland non? Honhonhonhon!"

Germany slowly backed away. There was something about France's laugh that always creeped him out.

"America?"

"Don't worry the hero is here! Ahahahaha!"

Germany facepalmed, but continued, "Do you know who the two people England is going to send?"

"Whaaat! Iggy ain't comin'? Well he's probably sending mphu ju ku fu and drughu gu fu."

"America! Please stop stuffing your face! I can't understand what the hell your saying!"

"I said mphu fu and fu hughu!"

Um Mr. Germany? Just slowly start backing away.

Suddenly the front door opened and a young woman burst in to Germany's dinning room dragging a hissing and spitting England by the collar with an excited face.

"Iggy! Old man!" America rushed forward and gathered England awkwardly into a bear hug not feeling any of the abuse being subjected to his shoulders and arms as England struggled to get free, screaming British obscenities at him.

The young woman stepped away from the pair with a giant grin on her face, "Father son bonding time," she snickered.

As she stepped up to Germany to shake his hand, he saw that she was very pretty. Long wavy auburn hair fell to her waist and her dark brown eyes twinkled with mischief. The smile she was offering Germany warmed even his man heart.

As he brought up his hand to hers he was pushed back roughly by golden-maned Frenchman who had her poor poor hand cradled in both of his own, and was about press his lips to them when he went flying and crashed in Germany's dinning table.

Another woman had entered the room behind the auburn and England. She had the most vivid red and curly hair Germany had ever seen. She looked really familiar and Germany knew from the shivers he was feeling up and down his spine that it wasn't a good experience. Then he realized that she had socked France on the ear, and that made her fine in Germany's own opinion.

She turned to the auburn, "You okay Kylie?" she growled. So the auburn's name was Kylie. "I about you Frenchies," she continued, "No woman, man, or child should be allowed within groping range."

Then she noticed England, now recieving endless noogies from America's unrelenting fist. The redhead went up to America and, WHAM! Even superpower America had to feel that one. And he had. He howled and clutched his jaw, thus letting go of England, who was grabbed roughly by the redhead and flipped over her shoulder and into the wall.

"I preferred you pirate. Much less of a wimp." she said grinning.

England went bright red, and tried to salvage his dignity by attempting to make a run for it but both women grabbed his arms and frogmarched him over to one of Germany's dinning table chairs and used Kylie's bright pink scarf to tie him up in the chair.

"Kylie your supposed to be on my side!" England cried out as she secured the ends of the scarf behind the chair.

"But Aurther, this is too much fun, and besides you know you have the best magic, and therefore the best chance of finding the spirit." she straightened and brushed her lips aginst his cheek, making the skin there go pink. Then she straightened up and surveyed the room with a frown on her face.

France was still leaning against the chair he had slammed into, clutching his ear and glaring at the redhead with watery blue eyes. America, who had gotten quickly over Ireland's blow was happily munching on hamburgers again. Germany however was repeatedly smacking himself with his sheaf of papers.

"All of you," Kylie called loudly to get their attention, "France get up! America stop stuffing your face and Germany, be a dear and stop smacking yourself."

France slowly got up and made his way over to Germany's mini fridge and grabbed a beer bottle which he pressed to his jaw. He chose a spot furthest away from Ireland. America still stuffing his face sat next to France, shooting Ireland a pondering glance.

This was the first time in a long time since someone had hit him with so much power that it actually hurt. Wow. That had felt so weird. But of course it no longer hurt. The brief bruise on his jaw had already turned yellow.

Germany stopped smacking himself and came to take his place at the strategically head of the table. Glaring at America and France he shuffled through his stack of paper and handed one out to each of them. "Our plane leaves at two o' clock sharp, and I asked you all to come here early so we can think of possible places to start looking." he paused and looked up at the two women on either side of England, "I think it is best that these two introduce themselves."

Kylie stepped forward and grinned around the table, "Hey you guys I'm Kylie Greene the country of Rhodesia, off the coast of Norway. Folks just call me Kylie."she smiled again and sat back down.

"Hey you bitches, I'm the country of Ireland," she paused and took a swig of a Guinness can that suddenly just appeared in her hand, "I believe my human name is Marybeth O'Neil, but if anyone of you calls me that," she brandished the beer can, "You'll fing this rammed up your ass."

Germany suddenly remembered the first encounter he had with the country of Ireland. It was a rainy day in '67 and he had been at a bar with his brother Prussia when the door had swung open and a very drunk redhead had stomped in with a nasty cut on the side of her head, and it was reported, several people went to the hospital with broken arms and/or leg, who tried to mess with her.

Germany cleared his throat, interrupting the fearful silence that had permeated the air when Ireland had administered the threat.

"Ja okay Ireland." he turned to the other countries, "Where do you suppose we start looking?"

"New Delhi."

"Agra."

"Chennai"

"Banglore."

"Your sweet ass ."

"Oui I agree!"

Of course you can immediately tell who said the last two suggestions. It was Ireland then France for all you ahem, as Mr. Germany would say, dummkopfs.

"New Delhi's the capitol," England argued.

"But Agra is where the pride of the country, the Taj Mahal is." France countered, "But angelterre wouldn't understand. The giant man part the call Ben isn't exactly a pride is it?"

"Don't insult the Big Ben you bloody wanker!"

"Arthur hush okay?" Kylie placed her hand on England's in a placating way. "I think it best that we could start at Chennai, it is a pretty cultural city."

"But Banglore is a pretty swell country!" America called from where he was being pretty quiet- oh wait he was just stuffing his face with fries.

"All of these are pretty good ideas."Germany said, "We can split into groups and each start at a preferred location. Eng land and Rho-sorry Kylie can be a team. America and I, and Ireland and Franc- DON'T ARGUE!" for France immediately started whining.

"Please don't put me with the-"

"Fine!" Germany held up his hand to quiet the complaining Frenchman, "You may come with me and Ireland can go with America. Okay?" He looked around, no one was protesting. they knew when to stop provoking Germany. "Okay when we get there we will have to meet the P.M. to get the spirit-object, tell him our plan, exchange contact info, and then split there."

"Sounds good to a hero like me! AHAHAHAHA!"

"Yes that's all very well," England cut through America's obnoxious laughing, "But I think we all are forgetting the fact I won't be joining you all."

Suddenly England heard something clicking and felt something cold press to his temple. He looked over to his right and immediately wished he hadn't.

Oh god! His heart thumped wildly in his rib cage. Ireland had a gun pressed to his head!

"Beth," Kylie said in singsong voice, "I don't think that would be necessary. Because," her voice turned threatening, and what was meant by threatening meant so-freaking-scary-that-even-Russia-would-shut-up-about-becoming-one-with-motherfucking-Russia-for-more-than-a-year-possibly kind of threatening voice and it scared the shit out Germany, "He will be coming with us, won't you Arthur dearest?"

England gulped visibly and nodded hastily. He glanced up and glared at Germany resentfully. Then he turned to glare at his sister who just grinned back twirling the gun around her finger, "Fine." he spat at Germany, and tried and miserably failed to throw up his arms in exasperation, but forgot they were still bound by Kylie's scarf.

He turned to glare at Kylie but also... just failed. She smiled sweetly her eyes full of... WHAT! Germany's eyes were deceiving him as he saw Kylie lean in to brush her lips against England's oh so gently.

When she pulled away, England's face went red no, Spain's Amazing Tomatos Red, when he saw France's, America's, and Germany's astonished faces.

_This was because these countries always thought always-grumpy-because-he-has-a-stick-rammed-up-his-ass would always belong to the forever alone club. Maybe England might have a new colony to show off or a territory. But a girlfriend? Even I, the all seeing, all knowing narrator voice could not have expected this!_

Then. thankfully, a knock at the entrance to the dinning area interrupted the immensely awkward silence. A butler poked his head in, "Lunch Mr. Ludwig sir?"

"Oh yes, Sebastian, please set it here."

A black haired young man in a black suit entered pulling a cart laden with German lunch items.

He quickly piled the food on the table and left.

"Please dig in." Germany called, and America did just that.

The entire lunch was spend with idle chat about politicians, money, and other trivial items, punctuated by glares at America's terrible table manners.

Germany leanned back waiting for everyone else to finish before he spoke again, "Did everyone enjoy the food?" It was his job as host to make nobody was about to puke after eating the food he had served them.

"Oui. It was nothin like angelterre's food so of course it was delicious."

"Hey! Don't insult my food you bloody wanker! It's perfectly fine!" Everyone except for France who straight out laughed, had hid their smirks behind coughs and hands.

"Yes the food was really good." Kylie said hastily before France could stoke England's temper even more.

"Yup and so is your ass Germany" Ireland said smirking as Germany hastily sat back down

"Norway." Kylie hissed at Ireland, who just smirked and rolled her eyes.

"Jeez, Germans are such prudes like Austrians." she said laughing.

"Honhonhon you make me laugh Ireland," France obviously had to butt in to Germany's annoyance, "You obviously have no idea of Germany's porn stash un-"

"It's twelve fifty best get moving," Germany cut in hastily, his face glowing red, "Please take your luggage to the car waiting for us outside."

The car ride there was tolerable except for America's (why was it always him?) practically screaming into his phone first to Obama, then to Canada, Japan, then finally Tony.

The countries rolled up to the airport in a limo that just screamed Paparazzi! OVER HERE!

Walking straight in, they had Germany's driver, who magically summoned five more guys, deal with mostly France's luggage. They completely skived off security.

I know! But they get to skip that shit! Its commoners like us that have to have our bags raped and get groped for weapons.

They now had ten minutes to kill before boarding.

"So hey Germany, I was just wondering how we are going to create this personification?" Kylie had plopped down next to him, professional interest etched on her face.

Germany turned to face her and cleared his throat, "Well we first obtain a spirit-object from the leader which is later infused with a small amount of spirit from another personification. We scout the country for person who is strong mentally to be able to see the object and phsycially strong enough to host the country's spirit. Well it's hard to explain exactly what happens, but you'll see when we get there."

"Okay thanks Germany!" and she bounded away back to where England (whom was still tied up just in case under his jacket, making him look like he had no arms) was sitting to cuddle.

Unknown to any of Germany or the rest of them, an albino man sat on the other side of the waiting room watching them with mischievous red eyes, speaking with a German accent into a cell phone, "Ja... the awesome me sees them... ja...," he galnced down at his (fake) Rolex, "Five minutes... hurry up Antonio! Shove him a body bag if you can't bare to part with the fucking moron!... fine... ja, see ya." He hung up and smirked evilly at the unsuspecting group.

"Here comes the awesome, fucking sexy Prussia to seize your vital regions!" he muttered under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**hey ponds, thanks for ur review babe,**

**yup it raining sexy men indeed**

**and pricesspug thanks!**

**ur awesome**

**Key**

**italics - the awesome narrator voice only when i feel like it, (okay i have decided the narrator lady is going to be based on another bestie of moi. PRINCESS PUG!**

**England/Arthur Kirkland**

**France/Francis Bonnefoy**

**Germany/ Ludwig Beilschmidt**

**America/Alfred F. Jones**

**Rhodesia/ Kylie Greene (OC!) based on the bestie of besties**

**Ireland/ Marybeth O'Neil(OC!)based on one of my besties**

**Prussia/ Gilbert Beilschmidt**

**Austria/ Roderich Edelstein**

**Spain/ Antonio Fernandez Carriedo**

**Romano / Lovino Vargas called Roma or Lovi by Spain required by law!**

**Sicily/ Marcus Vargas Carriedo (OC!) soooo adorable**

**YUP so BTT alert!**

**and mentions of mpreg**

**Love the chapter for me!**

* * *

"I am not going in Economy! I am first class!"

Mr. England-with-the-stick-rammed-up-his-ass had found out what class they were travelling in and is determined to keep up the line because of it. Oh dear.

Germany rubbed his head, while the others inched away. Nope they had no idea who this grown man who was acting like a five year old was. Nope.

Finally Ireland lost her temper, "Arthur, you are acting like a fucking child!" then she turned to the boarding pass lady, "Is there anyway we can trade in our seats for first class? Money is not a problem."

The attendant shook her head, looking traumatized by the behavior of England. Even America, France, and Germany seemed a little shocked by the actions of England. Only a little mind you. Kylie and Ireland were just too used to it to be shocked. But minding it was a different matter.

"Arthur, please." It was Kylie's turn. She placed a hand on his cheek, "Let's just get on with it." she gave the sweetest look ever. Eyes wide and pleading, just the hint of tears, and a wobbly chin.

England's green eyes softened as he returned his poppet's smile, "I can't," he admitted softly, "It's my mind over my heart. It isn't letting me pass up this moment. I want to I feel absolutely ridiculous, but," he threw up his arms, but failed miserably again, as they were still tied up, "I just... can't"

_What Mr. England-with-the-stick-rammed-up-his-ass means by mind and heart is the personification's slang for spirit over their original personality. The spirit forces you to act in ways typical for a person of your nationality even if it is against your original personality before you were turned into a personification._

Ireland's matching green eyes softened in sympathy. She understood. She (unfortunately) remembered all those times she had so much trouble putting down the bottle. Her mind had always forced to keep bringing it up to her unwilling lips. She had much better control nowadays, but she still had her moments of mind over heart.

She turned back to the attendant, "Are you absolutely sure that there are no available first class seats?"

The lady glanced down at the tablet she held in her hands and her eyes widened in surprise, "W-what! There is exactly six first class seats available."

Yes! The luck of the Irish...

After all their tickets were exchanged, and payments were taken care of, the countries boarded and the line was actually able to move.

Thankfully, or at least for Prussia, none of them notice a tall Spaniard race down to their teminal, dragging a brown haired man and a dark hair guy who was swearing profusely trying to keep a hand on a stroller, screaming, "GILBERT! GILBERT!" like some demented chicken.

ABOARD THE PLANE

After spending half an hour with America, France, and Ireland in the first class section (which they had to themselves thankfully), Germany can swear up and down that they were channeling Italy or just plain high.

America was jumping up and down on his cushioned seat and singing American Patriotic songs (currently on The Star Spangled Banner), France was frolicking around Germany's seat with a polar bear (where the hell did that come from), and Ireland was singing and swagger-dancing around the cabin, clutching a bottle of Guinness (agin, where the hell is she getting these?)

"_A long time ago, way back in history,_

_when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea._

_Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops,_

_and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops._

_He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,_

_and to his praises we shall always sing._

_Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer!_

_Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer_

_tiddly beer beer beer_."

"Oh holy sweet mother of fucking god. Can someone please shut her up?" someone whispered from the chair next to Germany. Then slowly a blonde man came into view, clutching his forehead, his eyes, blue like America's screwed up in pain.

"Who are you?" Germany asked. The man looked familiar but he could not place where he had met him before.

"I'm Canadia-Canada."

Germany smacked himself on the forehead, "Sorry Canada. Umm when did you get here?" he asked apologetically.

"I've been here all along. In fact, I was the first one to arrive at your house, Mr. Germany."

"Oh... well." awkward.

"Duuuude! Canada! When did you get here bro?"America bounded over and "lightly" punched Canada on the shoulder. Canada winced and rubbed his shoulder with pain, his light blue eyes, identical to his twin, America's, screwing up,and a grimace marring his usually smiling mouth.

"America," he whimpered quietly, "Don't punch me. Ever again."

But of course the other blonde nation wasn't paying attention (try and name one instance he was.), but was blabbing on about how he was the "hero."

"Hey Germany," it was England, twisted in his seat to peer behind him at the German, one of those fuzzy caterpillars he called eyebrows raised, "I guess since you forgot about Canada the first time," he said smoothly (another term for I'm British and it ain't no one's fault but yours), "you set teams, I guess you are going to have to re-pair somebody."

Germany ignored the taunt, and instead saw an opportunity and seized it. "France can go with Canada. I do not mind going alone."

France, as if summoned by the mention of his name, suddenly appeared in front of Canada and raised the Canadian's hand to his lips, while peering through his long blonde lashes and whispering sweet french nothing (which were probably not nothings by the look on poor poor Canada's face. WHERE THE HELL WAS IRELAND WHEN SHE WAS NEEDED!), at the rapidly blushing Canada.

Germany looked over a Canada, then looked away quickly, his insides burning with guilt as he saw Canada desperately trying to free his hand, fear evident in his eyes, but France wasn't going to let up the opportunity seeing as Ireland was so occupied by,

"Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer

tiddly beer beer beer."

Suddenly the group heard shouting in the hall leading to their section, a flight attendants annoyed voice shouting, "Sir! Please! I ask you to return to your seats! Sir! Mam!" the foot steps of many people were getting closer, "Sir! Sir! Sir-MPHF!".

Then the curtain aloofing the countries from the rest of the plane was pushed aside and a party of five, headed by a tall albino man entered, behind him, an annoyed looking aristocrat man with a briefcase in his hands.

"No need to worry! The awesome Prussia is here!" the albino man announced to the shocked first classers, "Followed by his wife, Austria-Ksesese!, I mean Roddy is here!"

He was promptly hit on the head by Roddy, with the briefcase, "I am not your wife and it's Roderich not Roddy, Gilbert!" but his loght brown eyes betrayed his (mind you, slight) affection for the albino who was just stood there idiotically.

Another man standing behind Austria, with dark messy brown hair and kind green eyes pushed in front of him and grinned, "Hola, mis amigos. Spain aqui! Los sientos para crashing tu fiesta, pero yo quiero ayudar!" he elbowed the man behind him who was holding a baby, "Don't owe Roma?"

The man called Roma (or Romano as we are not Spain), glared up with surprisingly really pretty hazel eyes at the cheerful guy in front of him, who was now ruffling his dark brown hair (carefully avoiding the strand that was poking up). The baby in his arms giggled and threw his bottle at Spain, crying "Bastard."

Everyone relaxed. They weren't Russia. Good.

Germany caught the eye of his brother, carefully avoiding Romano's glare. The albino grinned maniacally and made his way over to his brother who glaring at him, unfazed.

Plopping down on the seat next to Germany, that wasn't occupied by the Canadian, he immediately took a deep swig of Germany's drink (beer of course).

"Hey what up West?"

"Bruder what the hell are you doing here?"

Gilbert grinned, "As powerful as you (thanks to my awesome upbringing of course), England, and even France are with your minds, you can't possibly find the spirit in one week."

Germany furrowed his eyebrows, "What are you talking about?"

Prussia snickered, then threw back his head and started to laugh straight out. "Hey everybody!" he called out between snorts of laughter. Everyone looked up and he continued despite Germany's rapidly reddening face, "Mr brother, the great Germany," he said sarcastically, "Has forgotten about the major-Kesesese-World meeting before he planned this expedition!"

England raised a thick eyebrow, "Is that true Germany?"

_never mind that fact that he had forgotten the meeting as well, but remember boys and girls, he is British. IT IS NOT HIS FUCKING FAULT!_

Germany rubbed his head in annoyance and was forced to admit that he could use some extra minds. Austria was really good at having control over his mind, and Prussia and Spain were... enthusiastic. Romano was surprisingly a really good planner. He could use that.

He groaned loudly startling everyone, "Fine! You can help. But on the condition that all of you will be on your best behavior!"

Prussia grinned and slapped Germany on the back, "The awesome me is the awesomest example of good behavior."

He seemed to not notice the incredulous stares he got for that.

Suddenly Germany found himself staring into a pair bright green eyes.

"Vhut!" he started then relaxed. The bright green eyes did not belong to Spain(because it would be totally comfortable if his face was that lose to Spain's).

_But those eyes were, in fact connected to Spain. Those bright green eyes belonged to the very Marcus Vargas Carriedo, 'adopted' two-year-old son of Romano and Spain. Germany didn't know who Romano was kidding when he insisted the kid was adopted. Besides the fact that the kid looked exactly like Romano, channeled Spain's sunny deposition, and the six months two years ago when nobody but Spain had seen Romano were all proof enough that the kid in fact was Romano's flesh and blood no matter how many times he denied it. _

Marcus grinned up at Germany from his lap, clutching a stuffed pasta dish, curtesy of his uncle, the northern half of Italy. His eyes twinkled happily as he chewed on a meatball. Germany felt a lump form in his throat. Why was he suddenly filled with longing? It was uncomfortable.

Prussia smiled to himself as he saw usually stressed out forehead smooth out and his baby blue eyes softened as he unconsciously lifted the corners of his lips as he played with Marcus. Perhaps now was the moment to tell Germany that he was going to be an uncle? Even though Austria had threatened him with abstinence of he told anybody. Now that was a serious threat to the sex fiend also known as Prussia. But he could always resort to other means with the Austian aristocrat.

"Hey West!"

Germany looked up from tickling Marcus, a faint smile plastered on his face, "Ja?"

"Roderich is-"

"SOooo, Germany," it was Austria. He stood next to Germnay his usually warm brown eyes flashing, "How Are you?"

Germany looked up, uncomfortable lines appearing on his forehead as he found himself face to face with... Ummm... Austria's vital regions.

"Fine." he said leaning back a tiny bit.

From a few seats over Kylie frowned. It had been maybe four or five months since she last saw her good friend, Mr. Austria, and it seemed that the usually slim man had put on some weight. As she peered a bit closer, out of the ruffles and folds of Austria's blue coat and dress shirt, was that's faint bump sticking out his hips? Got he's gotten fat, or maybe he was...? No! Not Austria! Well after Romano she wasn't surprised. But seriously Austria? And Prussia? Those two had the weirdest relationship she mused, well you know what they say, opposites attract. And they, ahem, had affections for one another as plain as night and day.

Austria felt someone staring at him intently from where he was awkwardly towering over Germany. He turned his head slightly. Gah! Of course it would be her. She didn't miss a thing did she? Austria caught her eyes and nodded towards the curtained off bathroom hall. Then he started slowly moving in that direction.

When he pushed the curtain aside, Kylie was already there, bouncing lightly on the soles of her feet as she waited with an excited expression.

"Roddy!" she squealed. Austria sighed and rolled his eyes as he heard Kylie call him the name he she had bestowed upon him a year into their friendship, three hundred years ago? It was Kylie's fault that Prussia had started calling him by that god-awful nickname.

Kylie extended her arms and gently gathered Austria in a gentle hug, knowingly avoiding his stomach

.

"Austria?" she drew back her smile turning serious, but her eyes continued to twinkle cheerfully.

"Are you pregnant?"

Austria gave her a half-hearted glare then gave up. Instead he crossed him arms and looked away, "Humpf... Yes."

Then everything came pouring out before he could stop himself, "I'm pregnant with fucking triplets Kylie! TRIPLETS!" he whispered hysterically, "And it's my first time being pregnant. I didn't even think it possible! And what if I'm a bad mothe-erm-father? How will Gilbert handle this? I haven't even told him they are triplets. And oh fuck!" he slapped a hand to him forehead, "I forgot to tell my boss!" he became increasingly hysterical.

"Whoa! Roddy! Calm down!" Kylie whispered, placing a comforting hand on either side of his face, "Gil and I love you and we will always be by your side! I just wish you could have told me earlier."

Austria gave her a small smile, "Kylie, I only found out last week."

She smirked, "Still. Coulda rang." she shrugged then looked back at Austria's face, " Oh and Roddy?"

Austria raised an eyebrow.

"It would be best if you informed Germany about your ummm.. predicament. He can be a big help to you. And he needs to know about his nieces and/or nephews okay?"

Kylie planted a kiss on Austria's forehead and led him out of the area and over to where Germany and Prussia were still playing with Marcus (where the hell was Spain and Romano- oh wait do we want or need to know?)

"Gilbert?" Austria called softly.

Prussia looked up, affection for the aristocrat written in every millimeter of his red orbs as he continued to play with Marcus. He okay with kids, Austria mused, as long as the pervy jokes didn't start. But this was Prussia we were talking about, Austria better brace himself for at least living with three more perverts

"You can tell Germany," he said quietly

Prussia smiled a true smile, not a smirk, not a wow-check-those-or-that-out creepy smile. It was a genuine lifting of the lips that reached his eyes.

He turned to Germany, and said REALLY loud "Hey West! Guess what? I knocked Roderich up!" Everyone in the first class cabin froze, and the last thing Prussia saw was Austria's briefcase swing towards his head.

Then slowly a blissful blackness sank over him. And his last comprehensive thought was that he was glad he was unconscious then having to face Roderich's 'anger' which was making him sit down and hear him play the most boring... shit... ev...er.

* * *

**Hey you guys! Los seintos para no esta aqui**

**I was a la vacation via INDIA!**

**While I was there I finished typing chapter two and came home and immediately uploaded it**

**Well please love and review my awesome fanfic!**


	3. Chapter 3

**italics - the awesome narrator voice only when i feel like it, (okay i have decided the narrator lady is going to be based on another bestie of moi. PRINCESS PUG!**

**England/Arthur Kirkland**

**France/Francis Bonnefoy**

**Germany/ Ludwig Beilschmidt**

**America/Alfred F. Jones**

**Rhodesia/ Kylie Greene (OC!) based on the bestie of besties**

**Ireland/ Marybeth O'Neil(OC!)based on one of my besties**

**Prussia/ Gilbert Beilschmidt**

**Austria/ Roderich Edelstein**

**Spain/ Antonio Fernandez Carriedo**

**Romano / Lovino Vargas called Roma or Lovi by Spain required by law!**

**Sicily/ Marcus Vargas Carriedo (OC!) soooo adorable**

**Indian Prime Minister / Rajini Khanth (my Fav. Tamil actor)**

**Indian Prime Minister's Wife/ Janani Khanth**

* * *

New Delhi 12:30 pm

They had to or rather Germany had to carry Prussia off the plane and out into the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun over New Delhi, capitol of India.

Once they entered the cool airport interior, Germany rushed off to the closest bathroom. He awkwardly stood Prussia on his feet and bent him over at the waist and placed his head in the sink. He turned on the faucet and stood back.

"HAFF GUPH-!" Prussia gasped and choked as water entered his throat. He staggered away from the sink retching, his silver hair dripping water all over the tiled floor. Then he froze all of a sudden, "I'm sorry Roddy! Honestly! I'm so so-"

He noticed the tall muscular blonde man leaning casually against the wall, smirking at the fact that this was the first time he had heard his brother apologize to someone. Ever.

Not even the time that the albino had stabbed Germany literally in the back with a butter knife. Now that had hurt. But Prussia had just laughed, "Ksesese! West you are not as tough as the awesome me are ya?" and had promptly been punched in the face by his livid bruder, making him see stars.

Suddenly Germany was reminded something as he thought about apologies. The lump returned to his throat.

"Bruder?" he had test waters so he said it in a soft voice that he knew his bruder recognized as a tone to be taken seriously.

Prussia snapped out of his reverie and looked at his bruder's face to see the weirdest expression cross his face. Almost... wistful?

He raised an eyebrow in question.

Germany took a deep breath, "Is it true Austria's pregnant? I'm going to be an... uncle?"

Prussia wanted to smirk but his bruder looked like he really wanted to get something awkward off his chest and the slightest sign of amusement would shut him off. So he just nodded, "Yeah, with freaking triplets. We only just found out last week and he didn't want anyone to know. He didn't even tell me they were triplets. I found out when I scheduled a secret appointment with our doctor. And to answer your question, yes you are automatically signed up for babysitting duty."

Germany unconsciously raised the corners of his lips as he nodded. He hesitated and then opened his mouth to say something. But then closed it again. Then opened it again. The closed it again making him look like a gaping fish.

Prussia peered at West with curiosity. He had never seen Germany act like this. So uncertain... so... vulnerable.

"Just tell me. I'm going to become a father, and I need to get help maturing ya know? Promise no laughing." he continued a bit softly, "I'll listen to you bruder."

Germany decided to blurt it out, "I feel... vhut is the word?... Lonely! I want someone like you have Austria!" he clapped a hand to his mouth, looking like the child he never was.

Prussia smiled gently, "Bruder, there are so many people out there. You'll find someone you will never have to explain your actions to."

With a gentle pat on Germany's shoulder, he left the bathroom.

Germany smiled to himself. He was really glad Prussia did not laugh. The unconscious smile back on his face he followed his bruder out of the bathroom.

Outside America, Ireland, England, Kylie, France, Canada, Spain, Romano, Marcus, Prussia, and Austria were milling around luggage claim looking for mostly France's bags. Ireland was walking around with a Guinness can (okay at this point Germany was BURNING with curiosity. Where the hell is she getting these?)

Finally everyone had found all fifteen bags France had brought, and got around twenty bribed officers to carry all luggage for them.

_They attracted many weird looks, raised eyebrows, and annoyed mutters. A German, a pervert, an American, an alcoholic, a Rhodesian, a rapist, an invisible man, an englishman with-a-stick-rammed-up-his-ass, a pedophile carrying a baby, a tsudere, and an Austrian walked peacefully through an airport... haha *weak chuckling as you are more scared than amused*._

Germany and the gang got to skip all securities and paperworks again.

Grrrrr.

As he walked to the exit he spotted a sign that said Ludwig Beilschmidt held up by a tuxedo with an impressive beard and purple turban.

Germany nudged Prussia and tilted his head towards Tuxedo. Prussia nodded and Germany pulled ahead and started walking towards Tuxedo.

~Tuxedo's point of view ~

Girish Swamichandran was a highly educated man, and was Senior Assistant/lawyer to the Indian Prime Minister, so why the hell was he at the airport on the look out for a tall blonde German like some common driver.

Oh and speak of the Gowravas, here comes the mentioned German, behind him the weirdest group of people. Girlish smirked, he felt pity to the driver who had to cart them off. It seemed half of them were arguing and he other half was engaging in disgusting PDA.

India, home of the prudes, only after Austria, but still no hand holding boys and girls.

Suddenly the entire group started to turn and head his way, following the German. Girlish nearly fainted. Today just wasn't his day was it?

~back to our favorite German~

Aaaah. He was really losing his grip wasn't he. First forgetting about he world meeting and now forgetting to mention he wasn't a party of one sane person but tewelve complete lunatics (at least when together).

He quickly made his way over to Girish who seemed very pale, his dark eyes fixed on the group that had come to stop and arguing behind Germany.

"Hello?" Germany stuck out his hand to the Tuxedo, who took it, looking ready to faint and murmuring something that sounded oddly Iike, "Sai ram. Sai ram."

* * *

At the pm's house

They had to take three limos to the Prime Minister's house. Germany counted himself immensely lucky as he sat with England, Kylie, and Austria. Others like Canada and Marcus were stuck with the... For lack of better word, others.

Canada, the poor traumatized fellow, had managed to get stuffed with Prussia, France, and Spain. And Marcus, a car with Romano, America, and Ireland (who had started drinking from her magical (yes it has been decided to be established as magical) Guinness can while waiting for the poor driver to finish loading France's luggage into the limo blocking theirs). Out of the two, Germany wasn't sure who had worse. Canada in a confined place with the Bad Touch Trio (they probably took turns raping him), or Marcus who had to deal with Ireland's horrid off-key, ear-raping singing, America's obnoxiousness, and Romano's potty mouth.

Germany decided Canada, I mean nobody deserved to be raped. And if Marcus was anything like Spain (personality wise he completely was) he probably would just obliviously chew on his pa-ta. (Marcus talk for his pasta doll).

They arrived at the Prime Minister's house in half an hour. A magnificent white mansion surrounded by a garden so exotic it was almost surreal.

And Germany also urgently needed to pee.

Immediately jumping out of the limo, he asked directions to the closest available bathroom.

* * *

~America's point of view~

America was seriously contemplating something for a change. He was actually burning with curiosity about this one thing-scratch that-two things that had been plaguing him ever him since he was introduced to the indian Prime Minister, Rajini Khanth.

One was OH MY GOD I WANT A TURBAN (even though Rajini Khanth doesn't wear one) and OH MY GOD I TOTALLY DIG THAT BEARD!(even though Rajini Khanth doesn't even have one but I'm pretty sure you know what kind of beard I'm talking about? ¿Sí? )But could it be fake? America has to know.

* * *

~Germany's point of view~

When Germany returned from the bathroom, and entered conference room 3, he just about died.

Since this was Rajini Khanth's private house or rather mansion, he decided to meet the countries in private. That means just himself. No assistants, officers, family, or friends. Or... security.

Spain and Romano were cuddling or rather, Spain had his arms wrapped around Romano while the Italian yelled abuse and pretended he didn't like Spain's sexy tanned arms around him. To their right France was speaking heatedly to confused Canadian, for some reason. Prussian was being treated to the Austrian version of bitch slapping : playing a piano that had somehow appeared in the room. Ireland had started up on the drinking songs again, and England and Kylie were playing tennis. (Germany could hear from where he was slowly recovering from shock, the unrelenting slaps from Kylie, followed by a girlish squeal. England then in turn tapped Kylie on the hand. Pathetic. ) Marcus was toddling over to Germany arms raised. Germany picked but then almost dropped him as he spotted America.

America was sitting on the Prime Minister's lap and doing his best to tug the poor man's beard off!

"Hey!" Germany yelled. Everyone froze and hastily returned to their seats. Germany strode over to Amerixca and single handedly yanked America off the Prime Minister. He profusely apologized to Rajini Khanth for America's childish behavior. Rajini Khanth just tried to laugh it off but Germany saw the holy-shit-what-just-happened look pass through his eyes.

Germany helped the Prime Minister gently upright in his seat and then took the one next to him, accepting a manila folder as he sat down from the Prime Minister.

As Germany rapidly leafed through it, he saw it was full of places to visit.

"Okay, we have six groups, and if each group hits two cities we'll have twelve under our belt. Our teams are, and don't complain: France and Canada,; Kylie and England; America and Ireland; Spain, Romano, and Marcus; Prussia and Austria; and I will be going by myself."

He took out a black pouch that was tucked in the manila folder and handed it to England on his left, after shaking it, "You will each take one slip from this bag so each team will have two places to visit. Don't look at your slip until everyone has theirs." and with that the bag was passed around.

When the bag finally reached Germany, he reached into the bag and snagged the last two slips.

"Okay, you may open your papers now." those of you who aren't America or Prussia.

He glanced down at the slips of papers in his hand. New Delhi and Coimbatore. North and south of the country.

"Hey Germany!" called Kylie excitedly from next to England, "Guess what! Me and Iggy are going to Agra then Kerala!"

"Mmm, I am going to be staying in New Delhi and then to Coimbatore." but she had already turned to Ireland who had appearently picked Chennai.

Germany stood up and shouted into the excited chattering of the countries present, "Guys shut up and listen now!" everyone quieted, "Today we recover and tomorrow we set out for our destinations." he turned to Rajini Khanth, who had thankfully recovered.

He stood up as well "Now please come meet my family, fill your bellies, and then you can retire to your rooms."

England nodded, "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

~dinner Rajini Khanth's~

"This is my wife, Janani." a pretty middle aged woman wearing a shimmering blue sari clasped her hands in from of her and inclined her head, surveying them with serious light brown eyes, her bangles tinkling.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Ludwig." Germany stepped forward and shook her hand. She had a surprisingly firm grip and a brisk hand shake, but of course, this wast the que for - OOF! Germany was pushed roughly to the side by a France, who got down on his knees, trapped Janani's hand in his and, "Mademoiselle I am Francis Bonnefoy of-" He was promptly dragged away by Ireland who was holding a ... you know what whenever Ireland is mentioned just assume she is holding a Guinness can.

Then at the look on his wife's face, Rajini Khanth quickly stepped forward and ushered then towards the dinning room.

Dinner was a three course meal that was preceded by the rest of the introductions, which Germany was glad to say went well. Appetizer was a dice-cut spicy chicken that left nations like France, America, and England coughing their guts out as soon as the chicken was placed on their tongues, (**guys just so you know, north indians tend to put less spice in their food, unlike the southern cusine which mm mm mm builds the dish around spiciness ohh i just love spiciness!**). Then that was followed by a fluffy bread, which was indroduced as naan, and was dipped in a chicken curry to top. Germany's personal favorite was the vegetarian dish for the naan, which (drumroll please) potato curry. The entire meal was topped off with a sweet known a rasamalai, round milk ball in fresh cow milk.

As soon as the last spoonful of rasamalai dissapeared downed America's throat (Germany lost count after the tenth one), Rajini, got up and made his way over to a large and ornate glass cupboard. He carefully opened it and lifted a large velvet box, about the size of a microwave off the top shelf. Dusting the dust off the top he set it on the table and grinning he opened it, and gingerly lifted a light pink, ornate, embroidered turban to show them.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, meet your spirit-object, for lack of better term."


End file.
